


Of All the Stars in the Sky, You Shine the Brightest

by seyella



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Driving, Fluff, Late Night Conversations, Late at Night, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-19
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2019-04-04 19:20:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14027031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seyella/pseuds/seyella
Summary: America and England go for a late-night drive in the city and realise how much they really love each other.





	Of All the Stars in the Sky, You Shine the Brightest

**Author's Note:**

> I had the sudden inspiration to write this fic when I was taking my dog out and saw the passing lights of a car! It gave me a nostalgia of passing through cities at night, and I thought Alfred would feel the same, so I wrote this. :)

America loved many things about the night city. The air was cool and tranquil, the only sound being the whirring of cars and the rush of the nightlife. The lights were calming, somehow. The beat of his heart went alongside the beat of the city, giving him a sort of nostalgia he wasn’t quite able to pinpoint.

Times like these were times America admired the most. He was calm. Nothing else mattered but here and now, and it was nice. He enjoyed nightly drives, admiring the cities of his land. The lights surrounded him, giving him a feeling of pure bliss and composure.

Was this happiness? It didn’t seem like the right word to describe it. Euphoria? No, not that either. The feeling was indescribable, but in all the years that America had been alive, he found the feeling most prominent when he was alongside England.

England. The name fluttered around America’s heart like butterflies, swarming him until nothing was left but love. And that’s what it was. When he looked at England, especially in times like this, he was filled with so much love and admiration that he couldn’t stand it.

The car was quiet, England in the passenger’s seat, gazing outside at the passing Ohio city. America hadn’t said a word in almost ten minutes, an action England had previously described as America “deep in thought” or “forgetting he wasn’t alone in the car”.

The latter, America had said, was impossible. England’s presence had always made itself known; it was just something about him. He had that sort of effect on people, to mesmerise them without saying a word. When America had told this to England, England simply blushed, and waved his hands dismissively, denying every compliment that left America’s lips.

No matter the amounts of times England brushed off what America had said, he did love it, and the fact was known, unspoken in the air, but, nevertheless, known. England was the type of person to deny compliments when they were given to him. Each person had their own way of thanking for a compliment, and in a strange way, this was England’s. America liked it. It made him all the more endearing.

At one point in the drive, England had rolled his window down, letting the cool night air hit his face. America had not turned his head, but he felt the wind hit his cheeks as fast as it came. America’s lips tilted into a smile, and at this, England smiled himself, turning his head away toward the window.

“We should do this in your country sometime,” America’s eyes stayed on the road, but his voice shifted toward England, causing the man to turn his eyes to the driver.

“Is that so?”

America nodded, “Mhm. What about Doncaster?”

England turned his head fully toward America, “Doncaster? Why there?”

America sighed. Not an exasperated sigh, but more… breathless. Yes, that was it. Breathless. He always found himself becoming breathless when around England… It was odd, the things this man made him feel.

“Well, we always visit southern England, and Yorkshire is in the north, so why not Yorkshire? I want to… visit places with you.”

“You’re visiting places with me right now.”

“You know what I mean,” this time, America took his eyes off the road and focussed them on England, “I want to visit everywhere with you.”

England’s cheeks heated up slightly at the comment, but quickly shook it away. “And you’re not suggesting Doncaster because of the pub that serves that chicken you like so much?”

America faked a gasp, though his voice was heavy with a joking sarcasm, “What? I _totally_ forgot about that! That’s a great idea, England. Thank you for suggesting.”

England’s eyes crinkled into a smile for the first time that night. Playfully, he pushed at America’s arm, “Shut up. You know what _I_ mean.”

America didn’t reply to England’s comment and instead shook his head lovingly, that everlasting smile of his lighting up his features.

England felt his lips tilt up into a smile and a small blush take place on his cheeks.

They had known each other for so long… Centuries and centuries… Yet America made England feel so _young_. Each time he looked at him, it was as if he was falling in love all over again. He fell in love with his laugh… The way his eyes lit up when he spoke about something he was passionate about… Even that vexatious cowlick on the top of his head… They were all just little things, but they built into one big thing that England loved so, so much.

The car was silent. America’s right hand gripped at the steering wheel, occasionally rubbing at the tough leather, a habit England had noticed a few decades back. His other sat on his lap, his fingers curling comfortably around nothing in particular.

England’s eyes moved from America’s hands to his lips. His lips were parted slightly, small breaths escaping every couple of seconds. His eyes were caught on the road, glasses perched atop his nose. England smiled again, moving his hand from his lap to his side, and eventually meeting America’s on his lap.

England had meant for the movement to be subtle (and in the slightest bit romantic), but his hand must have missed America’s hand, and now found itself poking America in the thigh.

America’s breath hitched for a moment, a light snort leaving his nose. “What was that?”

England blushed furiously, toying with the fabric on his jacket, avoiding _any_ eye contact with America whatsoever. How embarrassing… Finally, he sighed. “I tried to hold your hand, but I missed… Sort of.”

And there it was. America’s heartfelt, loving laugh that England found so much comfort in. His laugh was… everything. There were no other words to describe it. It was a sound so beautiful, the gods themselves would be envious. Just thinking such a thing increased England’s love for the man.

“ _Here_ ,” America lowered his hand from his lap, placing it in the middle seat and intertwining it with England’s.

“You know what’s funny?” England began.

“That you’re older than me, but my hand is bigger than yours?”

“Wh-” England sputtered, “No!”

“I like your hands, though. They’re nice to hold…” America words were soft, his tone gentle.

England rolled his eyes, though his tone winsome. “Do you intend to continue behaving so sentimentally to me?”

“Yes. Do you like it?”

This time, it was England’s turn to smile brightly. “Yes. I do.”

America squeezed England’s hand once more, bringing his focus back to the road.

The night was quiet and the air fresh. The cool night air hit America’s face like a fan, causing a few strands of hair to flop every which way. It was calming, having a late-night drive through the city with England. It was all the better with England… There was just _something_ about England that gave America some sort of reassurance that everything was going to be okay. It was… his entire being. His scruffy hair that he never combs (yet he combs his eyebrows - America didn’t know why, but he loved that), his eyes, as green as the grass of his land, his thin lips that always seemed to turn up into a smile whenever America cracked a joke. It was… everything about him, really.

America favoured the night over day. That’s how it had always been, ever since he was a child. There was something about the night that gave him so much happiness and _tranquillity_. What made the moments even better was spending them with England, and nothing less. Then again, any moment with him would be amazing. America found his happiness most present when he was alongside England. They had an unspoken connection that couldn’t be put into words, but the two of them _knew_. It was strange how it worked out, but, America was happy, nevertheless.

 


End file.
